


heartstrings

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 06:08:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13653015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: junhui, a bubbly and mildly egotistic guy winds up in a fatal accident, undergoing a heart transplant to save his life. after a successful surgery, he starts facing odd occurrences. unusual habits, spontaneous shifts in behavior, and memories junhui himself can't even recall. even recognizing people he's never met in his entire life.until wonwoo-a reserved and gentle man, arrives at junhui's door, with explanations that only leave more unanswered questions.





	heartstrings

**Author's Note:**

> hey uh this is like my first fanfic published so hopefully it doesn't suck dick :-)

White walls plastered the foul wall room, singling out the hospital bed in the center of it. There laid an aching body - belonging to a lean male. Wires mangled across the medical patient's body, all connecting to the same machine that monitored the male’s heartbeat. It’s beat never altered it’s pace, it simultaneously went along with the male’s exhales, which inhabited the vacant-sounding room. His faded rose gold hair fell loosely on his dark sunken eyes, resembling composure despite the patient’s current condition. 

Just then, a touch of sultry fingers caressed on the patient’s own frigid hand. It’s touch lingered, as a voice spoke, vigilantly asking, “Junhui?”

The patient’s sunken eyes rose upon the calling of his name. The hands warm touch chilled in the patient’s fingers. It’s tender feeling surged through his hands, then his arm, and then his whole body circulated in warmth. The touch felt vaguely familiar. As he inhaled air, its flowery aroma absorbed the sour scent of the hospital. His eyes then flickered. The harsh hospital light and the stale white walls were casted out, as an undeciphered object and a haze of colors merged into one. 

As an instinct, as his name was called out, Junhui tried to respond. “J.. Jeonghan?” he managed to croak out. If the feathery voice didn’t align the memories, the face appearing in front of him helped grasp everything back. “Wh-what are-”

A sudden squeeze of his hand told him to stop. Junhui looked up, vision starting to sharpen, seeing the charming face in front of his eyes. “Hey,” the mellow voice said, then using his forefinger to lightly rub Junhui’s hand. “You just had a 4-hour heart surgery. Take it easy.”

Despite Jeonghan’s soothing voice, the execution of his words words punctured through Junhui, which ironically, made his chest ache. Jeonghan sat beside him, face drained with color, even resembling the white walls surrounding them. Junhui thought that his fellow friend was so full of warmth, but as he connected the dots, he could see how it all voided out. His copper brown hair rested just above his twinkling eyes, as the curve on his lips painted a sincere smile. 

Junhui slowly exhaled. “I’m fine, really. I just..” he said, as he eyes caught something afar. He squinted, seeing a calendar just behind Jeonghan. His blood ran cold, realizing the date. “J-Jeonghan.. What day is it?”

Jeonghan lift a bow, turning around, but didn’t have the same puzzled expression when he turned back. Instead, the look of painful realization. “It’s the 24th.. of February.” 

An alarmed expression washed over Junhui’s face as he leaned in his hospital bed, murmuring out, “Oh my god.. Oh my god..” 

As far as Junhui knew, the last day he could recall, was the 20th of January.

Jeonghan’s leg bopped up and down, diverting eyes from Junhui as he spoke quiveringly, “You were in a coma for 3 weeks. The doctors presumed that giving you a heart transplant could not only wake you up, but also, “ he heedfully watched his words, then finishing, “to keep on living.”

The cloak of Jeonghan’s copper hair concealed his eyes, as he studied the vase beside the hospital bed. There laid violet irises, its drooping roots and withered petals wrapping around the glazed vase. He remembered bringing them in the first week of Junhui’s stay. 

“Jeonghan, please, do me a favor,” said Junhui. The bluntness of his words caused Jeonghan to tilt his head up, his once avoiding gaze now targeted at Junhui’s hooded eyes.

“Tell me what happened.”


End file.
